


"Is that my shirt?"

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: Sherlollicious [36]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Molly Knows What's Up, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock Is Bad At Flirting, The Mystery of the Missing Shirt, just what is Sherlock up to?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Molly is convinced Sherlock has taken her best date night shirt.





	"Is that my shirt?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> for the four word prompt thing over on tumblr

Of all the things Molly had planned for the evening after her shift, removing decaying body parts from the fridge of 221B Baker Street wasn’t top of that list, but here she was with a storage cooler full of said former experiments. Sherlock Holmes wasn’t best pleased about it, either, but he didn’t have much of a choice, not if he wanted to keep up the arrangement – the last thing he wanted was for her to lose her job because of him.

“Right, I think that’s everything,” she stated, standing up and closing the fridge; she removed her gloves and tossed them in the bin – she was looking forward to getting home and into her bed, “did you need anything before I go?”

Sherlock, who’d spent the entirety of her visit engrossed in whatever was under his microscope ignoring her, shook his head and proceeded to pout. Molly rolled her eyes but decided to leave him to it; that was when she spotted a most peculiar item bunched up on the cushion of the sofa.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Hmm?” The consulting detective barely moved to acknowledge her, watching out of the corner of his eye as she picked up the pale cream-coloured silk blouse decorated with dragonflies. He shook his head, “sorry, Molly. You must be mistaken.”

“No, this is definitely my shirt,” she insisted, examining the creased article closely. It was her favourite shirt and why it was at 221B was a complete mystery to the pathologist. A mystery she was determined to solve, “yeah, I lost it about a week ago. I’ve been looking for it ever since…”

“You must have left it here.”

Molly frowned, racking her brain to recollect the last week; she’d never stayed overnight at 221B – she wasn’t like him, she couldn’t just walk into his flat and sleep in his flat. No, boundaries existed and were respected by Molly Hooper.

“When?”

“I don’t know! What is this, twenty questions?” Sherlock snapped somewhat defensively; he was on his feet, then, approaching her and swiping the shirt from her grasp, “will you just drop it?”

Molly snatched the shirt back, “why is it here?”

“For an experiment,” he replied, avoiding looking her in the eye as he tried to take the shirt back. Molly was having none of it. She rose her eyebrows in doubt and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “it’s an entirely plausible reason. Why else would I have your shirt?”

For a while, Molly just stood there chewing her lip which annoyed Sherlock more than the whole ridiculous situation. Finally, she sighed, “I don’t know.”

She unzipped her bag and moved to stuff her shirt inside it when Sherlock hastily interrupted, “you don’t need it surely.”

“It’s my favourite shirt,” Molly said, a confused frown appearing at her brow, “I have a date tonight and I was-“

“I’m not finished.”

She wanted to laugh, “are you kidding?” When it became apparent he certainly wasn’t kidding, Molly was beyond bargaining; she flung the garment at his stupid head and turned on her heel, “why don’t you just keep it, Sherlock. It probably suits you better than me, anyway!”

The door slammed hard and heavy footsteps thundered downstairs; he darted to the window and watched his angry pathologist kick at his door before marching off down the street. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her.

* * *

It was three days later when Molly decided to hell with it, she was getting her shirt back one way or the other – her date with the new surgeon from the Hospital had been a disaster and she was convinced the lack of her favourite shirt had something to do with it. Mrs. Hudson greeted her warmly as usual and sent her up, complaining about her insufferable tenant as she did. Molly climbed the stairs, prepared to march in a take back what belonged to her. However, when she pushed open the door, she was rather surprised by what she found…

Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa, clearly fast asleep and peaceful looking. It was almost sweet. But what her attention was the fact that he’d bunched up her shirt and was using it as a makeshift pillow, breathing in her scent every now and then, a huge smile spreading on his face. Molly gently closed the door behind her, smiling to herself. Maybe she’d let him hang on to it for another day or two…


End file.
